


watch me sink into you

by tworoads



Series: both directions [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angsty Schmoop, Coming Out, Coming of Age, Friendship, M/M, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, X-Factor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 05:00:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/683069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tworoads/pseuds/tworoads
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>when zayn thinks about the bootcamp cuts, his stomach twists and drops uncomfortably, but the memory of him and the four other lads on stage, embracing and laughing with disbelieving smiles, is enough to perk him right back up.</p><p> </p><p>zayn-centric bungalow setting where they’re all just getting to know each other and liam thinks they really just need to get some singing done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	watch me sink into you

**Author's Note:**

> something short and sweet about the boys becoming friends, and how zayn deals with it (plus his feels for liam). there will definitely be a sequel, if not a series. take note of the relationship tags. enjoy! 
> 
> the title comes 'into you' from the cinematic orchestra

when zayn thinks about the bootcamp cuts, his stomach twists and drops uncomfortably. nobody likes to be shamed and tormented and feel like they’re not good enough, but the memory of him and the four other lads on stage, embracing and laughing with disbelieving smiles, is enough, to perk him right back up.

he gets off the train, bag in hand and looks at the pokey little railway station sign. _holmes chapel_ , it reads. zayn feels the electricity shoot through his body, feels like he’s in the right place.

-

“we need some time to get used to singing together,” liam keeps saying, but they’d probably been singing for about seven minutes in total so far. the bungalow is totally cool; stocked up with food and all warm and cozy and there are video games and movies and a fireplace and a pool. it’s too cold to swim, which zayn is grateful for, because he’s not entirely sure how the others would feel about his omission to not being able to.

he and niall go for a walk, boots on to trek through the muddy backyard. “this is all so weird,” niall observes, his accent so different to zayn’s own.

“what is?”

“this time last week it was all a big panic about the x-factor and how i was going to make it through that,” he says with a laugh, “and now here we are. it all seems too good to be true.”

zayn’s stomach swoops, “so. so you’re having fun, then?”

“of course I’m having fun!” niall shoves his shoulder lightly, not enough to hurt but with enough force to get his point across, “you’d have to be crazy not to be enjoying yourself out here. just us and the lads.” zayn smiles at his words, boots squelching in the mud underfoot. “are you crazy, zayn?”

the question is loaded, and zayn’s stomach flops around again. “only in the traditional sense,” he says, and niall laughs out loud, breath coming out as clouds in the cold of the morning.

-

harry’s mum laughs when they say they need to take a trip down to the shops. “already?” she asks, “you boys are eating me out of house and home.”

“when we’re rich and famous we’ll buy you all the groceries you’ll ever need,” louis replies in a way that zayn thinks is meant to be a charming. he bats his eyelashes a couple of times and smiles sweetly at the older woman, who has harry’s eyes and lips exactly.

there’s a confidence behind louis’ words that make zayn’s heart do funny things. he sounds like he really believes in this joint venture that they’re all taking off on; like this twist of fate is going to become a reality.

“we should probably sing today,” liam says.

“we’ll sing when we get back!” louis is carefree and easy and smacks a kiss to liam’s cheek, leaving the other boy affronted. “stress _less_!”

zayn rides with louis to go pick up some groceries. he’d driven down from doncaster because it wasn’t too far. “i just got my car a few months ago,” he says excitedly, fiddling with the clutch, “mum didn’t want me driving up here because it’s such a shit box but i’m obsessed with driving it,” and louis laughs unashamedly.

he ignores the list that liam collated for them as he topples things messily from the shelves into their cart. “looks like my mum wrote this,” zayn says quietly when louis rumples up the list and throws it to him.

“poor liam,” the older boy says with a sigh, “so pure, so young.”

“he’s my age.”

“poor you,” louis says with a wink before adding some sugary cereal to the cart, the kind that zayn’s sisters liked to eat at home when they could sneak it past his mum. “it’ll rot your teeth,” his mum always said. he misses them a bit, but the part of zayn’s brain that has employed louis’ optimism tells him to get used to it.

they pay with crumpled bills, a joint effort from all the boys.

louis has gone for the cheap candy, and zayn watches him consider the left over money in his hand. “wait here,” he hands zayn some of the grocery bags and wanders into the liquor store.

“lou?” zayn calls after him. “can you grab me a pack of smokes?”

he’s a little worried about what louis might say; waits for any impending judgment. louis just asks, “what kind?” and holds his hand out for some extra cash.

-

liam doesn’t drink, and he frowns when zayn puts a cigarette in his mouth.

“those will kill you, y’know,” he says sagely.

“shit, really?” zayn feigns a panic, shoving the cigarette back in its packet. “man, you just saved my life, no-one’s ever told me that before.”

liam’s cheeks glow, and the other boys laugh rowdily. no-one’s making fun, but zayn immediately feels _bad_. he doesn’t say much and probably caught liam unawares: probably caught them all unawares with his sudden burst of humor. his mum was always saying how he had such a lovely _personality_ , but he needed to bring it out more. zayn’s sure she didn’t envision a bottle of vodka and a couple of ciders to be the thing to do it, but beggars can’t be choosers.

zayn puts the cigarette back to his lips and lights it. “’m just playing,” he says.

“i know.” liam looks confident, unaffected. zayn has a feeling he’s not really, but he fronts it on and that’s probably something they’ll need.

-

the fire’s dying out and the sun is coming up. louis’ asleep (passed out), and harry and niall sit in the doorway of the bungalow, talking quietly. niall’s got a guitar in his lap, plucking out strings here and there.

“why did you audition?” liam asks zayn, sitting down next to him.

he shrugs. the day of the very first audition, his mum’d had to absolutely _drag_ him out of bed to even go. “i think,” he starts, sounding as uncertain as he feels, “i wanted people to tell me i could sing.”

he laughs. “are you kidding?” liam asks, like he’s stupid, “you’ve got the best voice out of all of us.”

zayn shrugs again. “singing has just always been that thing that i’ve known i could do, but no-one else really did,” he tries to explain, shucking off the compliment, “i wanted to hear that i was talented.”

liam stares at him, and he feels scrutinized, like he may have offered too much of himself too soon. under his sweepy caramel coloured hair, liam’s eyes bore into zayn like he’s reading exactly what he means, like he can read zayn’s _total_ lack of confidence like an open book; like he’s willing to work just as hard as zayn is (and harry and louis and niall) to prove that he is good, and _they_ are good.

zayn bites his lip, snuggles further into his blanket and feels the switch flick inside of him.

-

it’s raining outside.

liam says, “we can use today to just coop up and try some singing.”

zayn finds himself snuggled between harry and louis on the couch, blankets piled up around them and _batman begins_ three quarters of the way through on the screen.

louis has got a wicked sense of humour: he’s snide and sarcastic and hilarious, but today he’s only at half speed because he’s nursing a hangover and cuddled into zayn’s side. harry’s funny too, he talks slowly and it takes a while for him to get his point out, but he’s witty and clever.

niall’s asleep on the floor, and zayn half expects liam to remind them at half an hour intervals that they have to get some work done together today, but he sits, back rigid on the other couch with the blankets pooled in his lap, eyes trained on the screen. he shushes harry and louis when they make jokes.

“i liked it better when george clooney was batman,” louis says tiredly, tasting out his words against zayn’s neck.

on either side of him, the boys are very tactile. zayn feels like he should be less comfortable with it than he is.

liam shoots louis a murderous look, as if he speaks blasphemy.

zayn bites his lip, invitation to join them on the tip of his tongue.

-

when harry laughs, it’s very bright and very loud. zayn finds him infectious.

they’re drunk again, and niall bought some pot that he’d gotten from his brother, so once harry’d checked that the coast was clear, they’d all started to feel like they were floating.

(all of them except liam of course, eternally grounded liam. zayn had only known him a few day but couldn’t help but feel like he’s the kind of person that would always be around to ground him. ground them).

“katie holmes or maggie gylenhall?” niall asks, smoking the blunt with grey smoke streaming out of his mouth. he looks expectantly around their little circle.

“katie holmes!” louis’ answer is immediate, “it’s a dawson’s creek thing.”

harry laughs again, that huge loud laughter and zayn finds himself giggling, too. “harry?” niall asks eagerly.

“katie holmes,” the curly haired boy allows, head nodding side to side as if deliberating, “although, heath ledger.”

“you got a fetish for scars, harry?” liam asks with a coy smile.

the other lads laugh, but zayn finds himself staring at harry because he _heard_ what he just said. was that an omission? was that. it was brave. he swallows, perhaps too loudly, and quickly lights a cigarette with shaky hands.

how does one small, curly haired kid carry so much bravery in his gangly little body? zayn sometimes feels like he’s bursting out of his skin with things he’s dying to tell the world – the singing thing was one of them. the liking boys thing isn’t something he wants to advertise, per se, but zayn’d always felt curious to test the waters of guilt – to see if he told someone that the awkward, embarrassed feeling would seep away.

“zayn?”

“ah.” he pauses, which, upon self-reflection, is probably indicative enough. “christian bale.”

more laughter, with warm eyes. harry puts a hand on the back of his neck, brotherly and warm. “same,” liam says quietly, meeting his eyes across the hazy smoke over the fire.

“awesome!” niall laughs out loud, “we should rename ourselves ‘both directions’!”

and just like that, zayn feels better already.

-

“we should really sing today,” liam says sternly.

“someone’s just cranky because i beat them at FIFA eight times in a row,” louis mutters. zayn’s sketching on the couch, and he doesn’t look up at them, but he lets himself smile.

“what’re you drawing?” harry asks from where he sits on the opposite end of the couch, toes touching zayn’s.

he hasn’t really been paying attention himself. there’s a few curving, flickering lines but beside that, there’s a figure with some swoopy hair and wide eyes and a little mark on the neck. “nothing,” he says, “just scribbling.”

zayn turns over a new page and harry sends him a knowing look.

liam and louis have recommenced their video game tournament, and liam appears to be out for vengeance. niall rolls around on the floor next to them with a packet of crisps (for breakfast? really?), yelling out instructions and moves to make, barracing for louis then liam then louis again, depending on who is winning.

zayn watches the lines of liam’s back through his thin, flimsy t-shirt, and the way he puts his whole body into pressing a few buttons. he bites the tip of his pencil, brows furrowed, and harry laughs out loud at him.

-

it’s the second-to-last night before they face the world as one, and liam gets drunk.

“you’re going to have to look after me,” he slurs at zayn as he drops down onto a mattress on the floor in the big bedroom where they’ve all been sleeping. “i might get sick!”

“we all might get sick,” zayn muses, “every day of our lives, we all _might_ get sick.”

“only have one kidney,” liam says, hand reaching up for zayn’s and tugging him down beside him. zayn’s heart leaps in his chest.

“is that why you don’t drink?” he asks.

liam nods against the pillow, messing up his hair. sometimes, first thing in the morning when he’s showered, his hair dries curly. zayn thinks he might like it better that way.

“isn’t it the liver that flushes through alcohol?” zayn asks, mostly thinking out loud and recalling his eighth grade science. liam lifts his head up off of the pillow and kisses him, right on the mouth.

zayn is smarter than he feels. “wait,” he pushes liam back by the shoulder, and he falls easily because he’s _drunk_.

“you’re probably right,” he says, and he sounds like he’s had a revelation. “you’ve probably just fixed my drinking problem.”

“probably given you a drinking problem, really.” zayn cant stop himself.

liam giggles, rolling closer so that the laughter puffs out against his neck in hot breaths. “the same way you fixed my gay problem and my x-factor problem and fuck, zayn, i’ve seen the way you look at me.”

zayn _really_ cant stop himself, but he cant be blamed with liam pressed against him drunk and begging and saying beautiful things, and he just swore even though zayn’s never heard him do that before. he angles his chin down to kiss him again, this time putting more of himself into it than before and liam makes a noise in his throat, leaning up into it.

zayn rolls him over onto his back, following him and straddling him, hips bracketing his sides. liam goes pliant underneath him as he kisses a sweet, open-mouthed trail down his neck, bites over his birth mark and licks his tanned skin. liam starts rolling his hips up in small, torturous circles and zayn builds a rhythm to match.

thy’re seventeen, and zayn’s been staring at liam since the first day they met. he comes in his pants, as does liam not long after. liam kisses him long, hot and deep before falling asleep, arms locked around his waist.

-

zayn wakes up to a foot on his hip.

he barely stifles a groan. “wakey-wakey!” louis says, deliberately loud.

he’s not hungover, just tired in his bones. there are more voices, the mattress moving and when zayn cracks an eye open he sees harry and niall too, jumping about on the mattress between him and liam. “come on lovers, get up!” harry basically yells.

zayn half expects liam to regret last night, but he snuggles closer to zayn, face in his collarbone. “fuck off,” he groans.

“oooh,” louis makes a mocked offended sound, jumping up and down, “them’s fighting words!”

“’m so hungover,” liam groans, hands covering his head and under the covers, zayn rubs circles in his back.

“get over it,” niall says with a grin, peering down at them. his tone turns into a matter-of-fact imitation of liam, “we have to sing today!”

even zayn cant help but laugh, and so does niall and lou and harry, and liam burrows further into zayn as if he’s trying to crawl under his skin. zayn can feel the vibrations of him either chucking or groaning, he’s not sure because he doesn’t know liam too well yet, but he’s sure in time he will.

around him, the boys laugh and he has the same feeling he did at the railway station seven days ago, only stronger and clearer. he’s _definitely_ in the right place.


End file.
